


Scars

by goldtoashes, heirsofbrokenlegacies (jarofhearts)



Series: Discord [12]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Badass Maedhros, End of the first Age, Foreshadowing, M/M, Mairon Makes Bad Life Choices, Mairon Makes Good Life Choices, Mairon’s obsession with Maedhros, Melkor being a creep, Possessive Melkor, Post-War of Wrath, Sauron Being an Asshole, Shapeshifting, power addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22392892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldtoashes/pseuds/goldtoashes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarofhearts/pseuds/heirsofbrokenlegacies
Summary: After the War of Wrath, Mairon surrenders to Eönwë, only to be confronted with the shadows of his past.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo (implied), Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon
Series: Discord [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1537228
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	Scars

It was not typical for you to question your decisions once you had made them. You had stopped doing so a long, long time ago, knowing that it would make you less effective and more prone to error, and that was a luxury you simply could not afford. But now, you were questioning the choices you had made, particularly whether it had been the right choice to come here at all.

The camp was bustling in the remaining light of day, preparing for the night. You could smell smoke from the fires and food that was being cooked, could hear indistinguishable voices talking, someone singing a song a bit further away. A sense of deep relief and yet of exhaustion was present everywhere. The Host of the West had won a great victory, having finally overcome their great foe once and for all. After having fought in a long, bloody war for decades, the struggle that had lasted for millennia was finally over, even though the ground might still be trembling in aftershocks, the very foundations of Arda shifting, shattering and adjusting to the change. If you closed your eyes, you could feel that change within your own spirit, a sense of restlessness boiling in your blood, a gnawing insecurity about everything that you had believed to be right for so long, about the decisions you had made, the path you had chosen to walk that seemed to be crumbling under your very feet now. It was that feeling that had made you eventually come to this place, cloaked in shadows, that had made you call out silently for your shining brother, not entirely sure whether you had wanted him to answer your call or not.

_You felt surprise when he actually came. Surprise and apprehension and doubt, but Eönwë’s face was unreadable when he stood before you._

_“Long has it been that Mairon has shown his face in the world. Especially to the Valar,” he observed, silver-blond hair stirring in the breeze. And he had not not come unarmed, golden plates entwining over his chest, his long sword nearly as tall as him, gleaming even after forty years of battle. In contrast, while you had changed back into your beautiful, elvish form as well, you had chosen to come without any weapons, clad in nothing but simple, unadorned dark blue robes._

_“Herald of the West,” you replied, bowing your head enough to be respectful, yet not submissive. “_ **_Brother_ ** _. It has been a long time indeed.”_

_“You have forsaken your bonds of brotherhood,” Eönwë returned without pause, a note of steel in the tone of his voice. “Do not speak to me of it.” He paused for a moment, his unmoving gaze lingering long and hard on you. “But you have called, so I will listen to what you have to say.”_

_He would definitely not make this easy for you, you realized, but then, you also would not have have expected him to._

_“Very well then. You might have received word that I renounced Melkor and left his service a while ago. I have been on my own ever since. I had plenty of time to think and I realized the errors of my way, how all his promises of power and greatness turned out to be empty lures leading only to destruction and pain.”_

_You sighed, trying to sense whether he believed you or not, but Eönwë’s face remained unreadable._

_“I was deceived as so many that he seduced into his fold at the beginning of Arda. Now I see the truth and I regret the horrible deeds I have committed in his service. I came here to surrender by my own choice, and to ask your pardon, Herald of the West, so that I may change my path and return to working for the growth of Arda in the centuries and millennia to come.”_

_“Fair words indeed,” Eönwë observed, his gaze on you piercing, as if he were able to look right into you. “Yet their weight would have been greater, had they been offered_ **_before_ ** _battle.”_

_“I agree,” you said ruefully, “yet word travels slowly into the wild where I was hiding from Melkor’s wrath. I did not know what happened before I felt the Earth trembling in its roots, and even then I assumed at first that it would be nothing but another atrocity they had devised in Angband.”_

_It was not true, of course. Even with your powers diminished, your vast network of spies was still functional - had to be, to protect you from Melkor - and thus you had learned of the Host of the Valar once they had set foot on Middle-Earth. But Eönwë did not need to know that indeed the main reason you were here was because now that the Valar had won their war, you wanted to avoid meeting a humiliating fate similar to your former Master at all cost, being dragged out of your hiding, mutilated and bound._

_Manwë's herald looked at you for a long time, silence lingering between you and him. Something finally flickered over his face that broke the mask of impassiveness for but a brief moment._

_“I remember how brilliant you were,” he finally said, his light blue eyes reminiscent of a sky in spring as he took you in. “What great shame that he could mar you like this.”_

_You could not help raising your chin just a little bit higher at his words, feeling a sudden pang of anger at his words. “Brilliant, you say? An odd choice of words, given that brilliance never results from the raw material alone, it is never just perfect from the beginning. It_ **_needs_ ** _to be cut and polished the right way for its brilliance to show.”_

_You noticed his eyebrows tick upwards ever so subtly, but at least he reacted with neither laughter nor pity. “A notion Aulë might even agree with. Forgive me for not being familiar with the particular linguistic interpretations of a smith,” he said and raised his sword to sheathe it on his back._

_You sighed, a mixture of relief and weariness. “It is still_ **_me_ ** _, Eönwë, and I can assure you, I am not marred beyond repair. I admit that my choice to align with him was wrong, but I see that now. I defied him, I left of my own will and I can do my part in repairing the damage he has done, in bringing out Arda’s brilliance as it was meant to be in the Great Music we both joined eons ago.”_

_“Very well.” Eönwë inclined his head, and though his expression was still neutral, you couldn’t help but think, somehow, that he was pleased. “I cannot issue a pardon on behalf of the Ainur to one of our own. But come back to Valinor with us, explain yourself as you have done to me and ask them for forgiveness. I do believe they will show you mercy.”_

_You had been afraid he would suggest something like that, as it was precisely what you did_ **_not_ ** _want._

**_What do you think you would do? Go crawling to the Valar? Do you think they'd still take you back?_ **

_“Mercy,” you echoed, the mere word filling you with a sense of shame, of humiliation. “And what does that mean, Eönwë? Will they let me return to Middle-Earth to mend and heal the scars this endless struggle has caused? Or keep me chained in the Halls of Mandos for centuries as they did when they first brought back Melkor?”_

_The herald’s head tilted slightly, eyes sharp as an eagle’s as he watched you. “Would you say that your deeds are of equal quality to those of Melkor during the first war?”_

_“It doesn’t really matter how_ **_I_ ** _would judge my own deeds, does it?”_

 _Eönwë gave you a_ **_look_ ** _. “If the answer is no, you should not have to fear an equal sentence.”_

 _You met his gaze without fear. “But there will be some sort of sentence, won’t there? I’ll be honest with you, I would much prefer to atone for my deeds where I have committed them, here, in marred Middle-Earth, not in shining Valinor, conducting mindless tasks that by no means match what I can_ **_actually_** _do for the world.”_

_He simply looked at you for a long moment then, and as impassive as it had already been before, you thought you could watch his face close off again, like a cloud passing over him. “It seems you have yet to learn about the nature of repentance. You came here seeking pardon, and to redeem yourself for your deeds in the service of Melkor. This is all I can say to you: You will only find what you seek in Valinor, not in this middle earth.”_

_You could not help but wonder whether this was what he thought or what Manwë had told him to say. Whether there was even a difference between those. The mere thought filled you with frustration and anger, although you tried to keep your face as neutral as possible._

_“Very well then.”_

There was something like a commotion at the edges of the camp not far away, Vanyar gathering, arms being taken up, words of Quenya whispered. Even the members of your own guard momentarily turned their attention, a few of them getting to their feet.

A clear voice rang out in the distance.

“Peace, brothers! We have come to seek parlay with Eönwë, Herald of Manwë Súlimo.”

You raised your head in surprise, recognizing the voice immediately. After all, you had spent quite some time talking to Fëanor’s eldest son when he had been chained within the dungeons of Angband. And the rational part of you felt concerned about meeting him under these circumstances, unarmed, a prisoner without chains in fact, your roles more reversed than it was to your liking. And yet… a much darker part of you was intrigued and curious about how he would react to seeing you, of all creatures, here. Slowly, you rose to your feet, bracing yourself. 

You caught a glimpse of him now as he and a dark-haired elf by his side approach, his flaming hair like a beacon that drew the gaze. They carried no visible weapons and were both clothed in rather simple hunting gear, vastly different from the intricate armor he had worn when he had been captured all those centuries ago.

“Who calls for the ear of Eönwë?” one of the Vanyar demanded, but before either of them answered, another of the light-elves raised his voice and spoke up.

“I recall you well, sons of Fëanáro, and know what for you have come. Or am I mistaken and your intent is to join your people in their returning to Valinor?”

There was a tense silence for a moment, before Maedhros finally replied, back straight, gaze unwavering. “You are not. Though we have not come with the intent of bloodshed. We would bid Eönwë to yield the Silmarils to us which our father has made and Morgoth, who is now your prisoner, stole from him. That is our request and our hope, so that we can depart in peace.”

“I will carry your request to him,” the Vanya offered after a pause. “Until then, you are to remain here and to not enter the camp.”

“So we will,” Maglor spoke up to agree, and the Vanya departed. Maedhros’ gaze followed him, and only then, finally, he saw you.

For a moment, he only stood and stared like a statue, only his long curls stirred by the breeze. You hadn’t seen him in centuries, and even though he was still beautiful and naturally in a better shape than when he had escaped from Angband, he seemed weary, exhausted from centuries of endless struggle against the world, enemies as well as his own kin. Crossing your arms in front of your chest, you subtly raised your eyebrows, examining him with mild curiosity.

A shadow of rage passed over the fair face, though he still did not move, only his grey eyes narrowing. “People of Ingwë,” he finally called out, voice tight, his gaze never leaving you. “Are you not aware who walks in your midst?”

“We are well aware,” the leader of your guard replied coolly, “but he has chosen to surrender peacefully and is thus to be brought to Valmar to answer for his deeds.”

Something escaped the red-headed elf that had vague resemblance with a laugh, a wrathful, bitter, disbelieving sound. His brother had shifted closer to him, standing by his shoulder with a guarded look on his face when Maedhros spoke. “And you trust his word so much that he is free to dwell among you unchained and unfettered? Morgoth’s right hand?”

“You might not have heard, Maitimo, or maybe no one bothered to tell you,” you answered instead of the Vanya, not willing to let both elves have a conversation about you over your head, “but I actually chose to leave his service more than a hundred years ago. After all, not all of us are as eager to stick to our errors and lost causes as you and your brothers are.”

“Let me _guess_ when you left. Right around that time you lost Tol Sirion?” Something wild flashed in the Noldo’s grey eyes, and you could almost feel the barely restrained urge brimming in him to start forward, the power contained in him that only grew over time. “And where have you been since then? Aiding in his downfall? Or rather cowering in some dark, remote forest, scared of retribution from both sides you turned your back on?”

“Oh, I remember your sharp tongue well,” you said, your voice dangerously soft, not keen to be reminded of the rather undignified circumstances under which you indeed chose to leave. “Glad to see you didn’t lose your spirits over the years, in this endless struggle of yours.” 

You were well aware that you shouldn’t play these games with him, that it was way too dangerous given the place and the situation you were in. But there was something about the barely restrained wrath burning in his grey eyes, something about his derision that had touched something deep inside of you, some dark and cruel notion that you could not help but give in to. Weighing your next words carefully on your tongue before you spoke them, you said, “There’s one thing I have been wondering though, whenever I thought of you: If you should actually manage to reclaim your precious Silmarils, what do you and your brothers… your brother, I should say… plan to do with them?”

This time, it was Maglor who raised his voice before his brother could, cutting him off.

“Let this be our concern and turn to yours, Cruel One. Your own sentence awaits you.”

“As you wish,” you said, your eyes never leaving Maedhros’ face. “A final word of advice then, Fëanorions. If you even get the chance to touch them again, I advise you to be careful. Their light was too piercing, too brilliant for Melkor to endure in the end, it hurt his eyes and charred his hands because of all the evil he had done. Now I never had any desire for them, but I wonder, do you think _you_ will still be able to touch your father’s shining heritage, Maitimo, dear? After spilling the blood of your own kin to get to them, and not only once, but how often, three, four times? After abandoning your beloved High King to die a messy death on the battlefield…?”

You could feel your guard shift around you, could see his grey eyes flashing. But he moved like the wind, the ground starting to tremble as if in reply to his temper, a knife glinting in his hand as he sprang towards you. You reacted without thinking, reaching for the familiar force inside you that sprang to your defense readily as if you had never sworn to abandon it in the first place. The very air around you seemed to glow and crackle as if from some potent, scorching flame, stopping his hand just before he could strike.

 _“Don’t you. Dare. Threaten me.”_

Your voice was fire and darkness, a fierce hiss that made your guard around you recede in fear, although your attention was still focussed on him alone. And he alone was not cowed by you, only held back by the dark force even he could not overcome. His brother, you could see in the periphery of your vision, was by his side again now, a hand on his arm, fingers digging right into it, but he too was staring at you with burning, unadulterated hatred.

And finally you could feel his force receding from its push against yours, his chest heaving as he took a slow half step back, a storm raging in his eyes.

“I hope the Valar freeze your pitiful soul in the same dark Void you crawled out of.”

“We’ll see about that,” you muttered, absent-minded, while you let the fiery glamor around yourself drop. Already, you had the feeling that this might have been an unwise decision, for several reasons, the fearful glances that your guard gave you being only one of them. But to use these powers again… the familiar need inside you raised its ugly head in response, whispering, urging you to take more, to show this pathetic bunch of elves who it was they were dealing with. And all the while, you could feel how the remains of your power demonstration seemed to seep into the ground, into the very air around you, mingling with the aftershocks that still made the Earth tremble, feeding all these sensitive, invisible nodes and patterns all around you. Even if Eönwë had somehow missed this, you were sure about one being who had not, who would have sensed your presence the moment you drew upon the powers of the Discord as if you had lit a beacon right before his dark eyes. 

_He will know I am here._

The thought alone was enough to send a frightened shiver down your spine.

“You will come with us,” one of the Vanyar told you, and for once, you did as you were told, leaving that part of the camp in commotion and disquiet, too distracted to even look at back at Maedhros and his brother one more time. The distance your guards kept from you was noticeably greater than before, their souls uneasy, and you wagered they all hated the thought of joining you in the tent you were being lead into. You paid them no mind though, merely settled down on the blankets in the back of the tent, concentrating on closing your mind and trying to resist the urge to cast it outside, to sense for subtle tendrils of darkness reaching out for you. Maybe he hadn’t sensed you, or maybe he was in a state too weak to respond.

_Stop. Don’t think about it. The more you think about it…_

The whispers of the Discord in your blood were just getting a little louder, a little hungrier. 

You were so tense that you startled when the flaps of the tents parted and the form of a great cat strode in without a sound, her fur the lightest shade of gold. Crystal blue eyes settled on you for a long moment before her massive body stretched out between two of the elves across from you. One of the Maiar that had accompanied the host to Middle-Earth, you were sure - likely another consequence of your display of power.

She, however, was likely the least of your problems. You closed your eyes, awaiting whatever might happen. Outside, the sky was turning dark, the bustling of the camp slowly dying down as the warriors finished their meals and eventually receded to their tents and to rest. Your senses were wide awake though, taking in the crackling of the campfires slowly burning down, the sound of a nocturnal bird somewhere far away, the wind in the trees around your camp, muffled voices far away…

And then suddenly, you felt it. Your skin started to crawl, a harbinger of the so despised, familiar voice whispering in your mind.

_How does it feel, to be back in your fairest form? It has been a long time, has it not…_

You felt your mouth go dry, but this time you did not flinch, unwilling to make your guard even more suspicious. Instead, you withdrew even further into yourself, your face an impassive mask to the outside world as if you were lost in deep thoughts while you tried with all your might to _pretend you did not hear this, shut him out, make him go away…_

It was of no use. Not with that hungry, restless part of you that was startled, mesmerized by the mere sound of his voice, that was immediately drawn to the fleeting touch of his consciousness like a dog was drawn to its master’s heel.

You could almost _see_ his smile.

_Was your little display not to gain my attention? Come, my beautiful one, do not be shy._

_Leave me be._

Cold, denying anger, directed at him. 

_We are done, Melkor._ **_You_ ** _are done, more precisely._

 _We will never be done._ He sounded almost pitying, in a condescending way that contained both anger and satisfaction. _I will always be inside you, always in your thoughts. You will always crave me, little Maia. Run as far as you want, even back to the Valar you despise so much. You will never be free of me._

 _You know me. Better than anyone else,_ you admitted as there was really no point in denying his words. _But maybe not as well as you thought you did?_ _Was it not you who was absolutely sure that I would remain by your side, that I would go mad if I tried to leave?_ Oh you could play these games, too, you had been quite good at them after all. _I bet you wouldn’t believe that I had actually left, that you assumed that I would come crawling back the next day, next week, next month… Tell me, oh Mighty Arising, when was it that you realized that I had, in fact, left and that I was_ ** _not_** _coming back?_

 _You’re very proud of yourself, are you not._ He sounded decidedly less amused now, sharper in his condescension. _And for what? That your fear of facing me after your failures was greater than your craving?_ _Do you think it will help you now, that you couldn’t own up to them? That the Valar will be_ ** _merciful_** _with their wayward pet Maia that ran away from them? You must be looking forward to be put back on your leash if you truly hope for a lesser sentence._

 _From what I have heard,_ **_you_ ** _are currently the one being leashed and chained. Not me. I renounced you, Melkor, they know that I left even before this war started. And I assume they are much more inclined to believe me at this point than listen to your lies for a second time._ You pondered your next words for a moment before you continued. _You hate that thought, don’t you? That they might actually forgive me and let me walk free and cast you out into the Void instead?_

For a few moments, finally, there was silence, and you almost hoped that you had annoyed him enough that he had lost interest in taunting you. But you were not that lucky.

 _You really did crawl back to the Valar then_ , his voice finally whispered in your mind again. _I will tell you something, Mairon. You will hate their forgiveness as much as their punishment. You will hate that you_ **_will not matter_ ** _, just as you did before. You will hate that they’ll observe and control you for centuries just to make sure you do not misstep. You will hate their narrow-mindedness and their perchance for looking to the past instead of to the future. My body might be bound by a physical chain. But your chain is already in your mind._

 _I did_ **_not_ ** _say that I would go back to serving them._ You felt your temper flare and and yet you knew with an absolute clarity that it was true. You wouldn’t serve again. You _couldn’t_ . Not Melkor, not Aulë, not _anyone._

_When I first came to you, here, on the shores of Middle-Earth, you told me, did you not? You told me I would choose to serve myself any time over serving another. Well then, maybe that is what I should do. Serve myself. It took them forever to finally come here for you, after all, and I have reason to believe they care a lot less about me than they do about you._

This time, you could feel it, the flash of wrath your words caused in him, the mere prospect, you assumed, that you should truly slip his grasp. _You have always stumbled over your own hybris, and you will do so again. And in the long run, even that will not matter. Whatever punishment they will choose for me, one day I will return. And I promise you, my Fair One… I will come for you._

The sudden sound of voices, loud and agitated, startled you, drawing you back to the here and now. Outside the tent, somewhere in the camp, swords clashed and there was shouting in the distance, stirring your guard. They leapt to their feet in alarm and reached for their weapons, even the great cat focussing her attention on whatever fight there was going on in the distance.

And again you just reacted, without a moment of hesitation. You had sensed the cold touch of the night air at your back before. Where the tarpaulin was anchored in the ground, several small gaps remain, far too small for one of the Children, but that had rarely ever stopped you. Your body shrunk to its smallest possible form within a heartbeat, and just as your guards turned towards you, you slipped through the gap into the cool night, spread your leather wings and soared into the air. Behind you, you heard more shouts, the growl of the great cat, but you had already vanished into the underbrush, a small shadows among larger ones, indetectable, uncatchable. 

No, you would not atone. You would not beg. You would not serve. You would never come back.

The starry night was full of sounds and smells, full of promises, of _freedom_. The struggle within the camp slowly faded from your hearing as you soared further into the darkness.

You didn’t need masters anymore who would tell you what to do, you realized, but you also had no desire for slaves. No, next time you would find allies, seek out those who shared your visions and dreams and align with them. And when you would eventually have to face those who wished to control you, wished to chain you, be it Melkor or any other Vala, you wouldn’t make it easy for them.

Because maybe the next time, you wouldn’t have to face them alone.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is it! The last part of our series of a dozen insights into Mairon and his relations until the end of the First Age. We would like to thank everyone who took time out of their day to read, leave kudos, and more than anything, those of you who have left us a comment. We appreciate them more than you know!
> 
> This series, for us, is sort of a prequel to something much larger we've been working on for literal years now. It's not quite ready to be posted yet, but we're aiming to start before the Amazon show does, because we've been getting the sneaking suspicion that they're going to be touching on some very similar plot points.
> 
> But until we start with that, the next thing we've got in the pipeline is a modern AU with an interesting twist. ;) Hoping we'll see some of you there!
> 
> Mairon's ultimate betrayal of Melkor is featured in [Treachery](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22201774)
> 
> Maedhros' and Mairon's former relation during Maedhros' imprisonment is explored in [Contempt](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21838861)
> 
> Melkor's statement that Mairon would prefer to serve himself over serving another refers to the events in [Loyalty](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21412351)


End file.
